Flexible
by ceeebee
Summary: Set after 'Lamia'. Merlin has returned to Camelot, but Arthur cannot understand why his manservant hasn't also returned to his usual, annoyingly over cheerful, state. SLASH.


**A/N- I felt that I had to write this, after what happened in Lamia **

**vague SPOILERS for 'Lamia' (episode 408)**

**Pairing: Merlin/Arthur**

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><p><strong>Flexible<strong>

Merlin winced, tunic pulling at the grazes on his back, as he bent down to snatch Arthur's boots up from the floor. Arthur didn't say anything, but his eyebrows rose a little, as he watched Merlin straighten up, and then turn to face him, smile plastered unconvincingly to his pale face.

"You know, now you're King, you really ought to learn how to clean boots yourself." The manservant said, striding forwards, his expression oddly controlled, as if he was wearing a mask and trying his utmost not to let it slip.

Arthur spluttered, momentarily, "that makes _no sense_, Merlin. Now that I'm King, perhaps _you _should learn how to clean boots. God, you've been doing it since you arrived in Camelot, and you're still bloody useless!" the insult was light hearted, and Arthur was even grinning a little when he said it, anticipating a comeback from Merlin, which would then, no doubt, develop into some witty banter, keeping him entertained all morning.

What Arthur did _not _expect, was the sudden slump to Merlin's shoulders, the way his head hung for a moment, devoid of any sign of happiness, however forced. He looked... Arthur's insides tensed, because Merlin looked _ashamed_.

"Merlin, what-" he took a hesitant step nearer, panic writhing in his stomach, as he wondered whether he had taken things to far, even though he was sure he hadn't said anything that could make his manservant... his best friend, act like this.

"Nothing," Merlin's head snapped up, and the smile was back in place, fixed and without showing his teeth. It wasn't the smile that Arthur had grown to adore; wasn't the smile he loved to coax from Merlin, in those small hours of the morning, when the two men were nose to nose in the bed, heart to heart.

"Don't do that, Merlin," Arthur was in front of the other man in a second, reaching out to grab his shoulders, but Merlin flinched away, eyes wide with alarm, as though he was afraid. It was then that it dawned on Arthur; he had barely touched Merlin since arriving back in Camelot, after the horrible incident with the Lamia, and his knights.

That had been two days ago.

"What's wrong?" the King asked, gently, as his hand fell back to his side. Merlin gazed at him, swallowing, his tongue flicking out over dry lips.

And then Merlin told him, his voice low and embarrassed, his eyes darting around the room, how one by one the knights had knocked him back, how they had yelled at him, reminding him of his worth.

"And it wasn't their fault, of course it wasn't, but it doesn't make anything they said any less true, Arthur. Surely you must think it too? What's my word count for, really? I might as well not be here, half the time, because I really _am _useless-" without my magic "-and I promise I don't mean to be, but-" and then Merlin gasped, because he had lifted his arm, to perform some fruitless gesture, and made his shirt tug at those dam cuts again.

"Merlin," it was almost a growl, as Arthur fixed him with a steely glare, "turn around."

Merlin hesitated, breaths coming out short and nervous, before he spun on the spot, his back facing Arthur, without another word.

He whimpered, just a little, as he felt Arthur lift the tunic, up and over his head, and then bit his lip as cool fingers pressed around the injuries.

"This was when they pushed you over?" Arthur's voice was steady, but Merlin could hear the rage being forced back behind it.

"Yeah," he whispered, head falling forwards again, and ears turning red. Arthur noticed, and his frown deepened.

"Stop it, Merlin. Look at me," he said, removing his hands, if a little reluctantly, from Merlin's skin.

The manservant turned once more, forcing himself to look at Arthur's face.

"You are _not_, useless, Merlin. You have saved my life on more occasions than I've been able to count. Your loyalty to me, and this Kingdom, has never wavered, and I recognise that," he reached forwards, fingers moving to the back of Merlin's head, stroking the soft hair at the nape. Merlin tilted into the touch, eyes curious and sad and longing, all at the same time, "you could never disappoint me, Merlin. Your word counts for everything, even if it doesn't always seem like it. God, you don't know how often I've lain awake at night, going over some of the things you come out with," this drew a wry chuckle from Merlin, who took a shuffling step closer.

"I hope that's not the only way I've been keeping you up at night," he said, and Arthur was half delighted that Merlin was being vaguely like his usual self, and half horrified at the tearful glint in his eyes.

"Well, whatever your faults during the day," and now Arthur was right up close to Merlin, his lips inches from the other man's face, "I think we can both agree, that you're bloody spectacular when the sun goes down."

"It's morning now," Merlin pointed out, and Arthur just wanted to dive into those bright eyes, and drink away the tears. Failing that, he wanted to beat all of the knights to a pulp.

And if neither of them, he guessed he was pretty happy with just having Merlin this close.

"I guess it is. But, really, I'm nothing if not flexible," and he finally closed the distance between their mouths, taking Merlin's tongue between his lips, lapping at the corners, the roof, even dipping down to the hollow of skin, just above the manservant's chin.

Merlin sighed down the King's throat, content in Arthur's arms.


End file.
